Memoirs of a Psychopath
by SarahSavesTheWorld
Summary: I'd like nothing more than to pop a pill, take a shot, and float away into nothingness. But I'm better than that now. Or so they say.


**Chapter One: Breathe In**

When I met him, I was a mess. I was a drug addicted psychopath who thought cutting myself was the only relief to my pain. No one really knows how fucked up I was, still to this day. It's something I'd rather like to keep to myself. Right now, as I write this, I'd like nothing more than to pop a pill, take a shot, and float away into nothingness. But I'm better than that now. Or so they say.

I thought breaking things off with Ron was a good thing. He wasn't supportive of my habits, and all I wanted to do was have fun. As I got deeper and deeper into my addiction, I got more depressed. I realized that Ron had kept me above the water for the past two years, and that I was a fool to leave him. I started cutting myself after that. The scars still send shivers down my spine, and I can still see the hurt in Draco's eyes when he looks at my scarred flesh. The scars are evidence that I was once crushed, and a new one appears on his heart every time he tries to understand what and who could have made me feel that way.

The most vivid of all my episodes was after a particularly excruciating night with Ron. I popped a pill, washed it down with whiskey, and called at Ron's apartment. He answered within seconds, and for a slit second, his face betrayed him, showing every ounce of love that it had used to show. But in a split second the love was gone, replaced by frustration. "What now?" he sighed.

I knew that I would never have him back in my life… but on and on I persisted. What I didn't realize was that I was ruining everything we had ever been, and any friendship that ever could be. "I need you." I said simply. He rolled his eyes. "Hermione, you only need me when you're high. I'm sick of dealing with you. You need to leave. Now."

Hot, painful tears dribbled from my eyes before I even had time to comprehend his words, for I knew what he would say. I don't know what it was, but I just couldn't understand his constant dismissal; my mind rejected it, brushed it off like it was a fly.

"Baby, please!" I pleaded, moving towards him. He dodged me, picked me up by my armpits and started walking towards the door. I was nothing but a child to him. A sick, psychotic child. The tears started to pour and I shouted, "I'll quit! I'll do anything! I love you, Ron."

He set me down on the threshold and held my face in his hands. Pity flooded his countenance as he said, "I love you, too. I always will, but not like that. You've hurt me too much."

"I know I have. I was daft to ever let you walk out of my life."

"I didn't walk out of your life… you walked out of mine."

"Ron, I can change. Just please give me a chance!"

The chilly September night was beginning to take a toll on my speech, and I tried to focus on the conversation. I knew it was important, but that tiny little pill was telling me otherwise. My teeth chattered as I stood there, waiting for him to answer. The only warmth I felt was from his hands on my cheeks. I felt like he was burning them, as if I was a sinner seeking refuge in a church.

I gazed at him in awe, allowing all the love I'd ever felt for him to rush through my veins, providing another form of warmth. I leaned up and pressed my lips to his, making sure my hands were behind his head so he couldn't go anywhere. He hesitated, weakly trying to push me away from him. He sighed under my lips and I felt him give in and kiss me harder, pulling me into the apartment and closing the door behind us. The warmth of the fire in the grate caressed by bare arms as Ron continued the embrace, kissing my neck and shoulders. I knew the apartment well, and every step heightened by awareness of what was going to happen. I kept my eyes closed most of the way, but I knew we were heading for his bedroom.

A wicked voice inside my head proclaimed, '_You dirty slut! Are you just going to let him take advantage of you like this?' _I didn't answer. Instead I searched for the seam at the bottom of Ron's t-shirt and pulled it off, exposing his muscular chest. I sucked in air through my teeth, making a hungry sound. He sighed and I could already feel his erection against my too-small thigh. He pushed me onto the bed and gently got on top, kissing every part of me he could get his mouth on. My shirt was gone… my jeans, too. Ron was below me, kissing my calves, my inner thigh. My body shivered with excitement, my mind shivered with the awesome love I felt for him in that moment. His fingers found the top of my panties and soon they and my bra were gone, too, exposing my body to his corrosive eyes. His gaze met mine, and I whispered, "I love you."

"I love you too," he replied huskily. Before I knew what was going on, his tongue was making its way down my body. Neck, breasts, navel… lower, lower, lower until I felt his tongue swirling around my clit. Warm and wet, it moved slowly, lovingly, sending shivers up my body, erupting goosebumps everywhere. I climaxed quickly, and as I came his mouth was on mine again. He entered quickly after, slowly thrusting deep into me, fulfilling the hunger I'd felt for weeks, healing the hole in my heart for a moment frozen in time. Tears streamed from the corners of my eyes as he moved together, one solid being. He kissed my neck, leaving traces of the moisture that I assumed were tears of his own. Choked sobs and moans were the sounds that formed soft, nostalgic music in the air all around us. I felt pressure building up inside of me and I tightened as we climaxed together. He kissed me again and looked into my eyes. He brushed my tears away with his thumb, his gaze boring into me, bearing my soul to him.

I felt such definite sorrow in that moment. Two broken hearts, one body, one bed. We lay there silently for what seemed like days. A sob here and there interrupted the silence. We clutched on another until our muscles ached, each willing not to let go of the other. Finally we drifted into a light slumber. Eyes, bodies, and hearts aching as one.

I awoke alone, naturally. I stood and picked up my clothes off the floor, redressing slowly. My head pounded and my hands shook. I would need another pill soon. I noticed a small piece of paper lying on his pillow. It read:

'_Mione,_

_Baby, I can't do this to myself anymore. I'll always be here for you, but my heart breaks every time I have to see you like that. If you're serious about getting better, I would do anything to help you. I love you more than anything, but this is goodbye. I'll be home around eleven this morning, and I'd appreciate it if you were gone when I got back. Be safe. I'll see you around._

_All my love,_

_Ron_

I couldn't breathe. I couldn't think. I couldn't move. My whole body shook as I tried to reason with myself. _If you force yourself to get better, you'll have him back in your life._ This thought was the one thing that got me home in one piece. My apartment was almost as cold as the air outside. I hadn't paid my gas bill. I'd used by paycheck for Xanax. I felt so useless standing in the doorway contemplating taking another pill. _One more is all I need to get me through today, and then I'll be done for good. I'll be back in Ron's arms in a week. _Ron's face in my mind fueling me, I padded to the sink, picked up the prescription bottle with my shaking hand and seized the white pill and popped it, chasing it with what was left of the Grey Goose I'd bought last month. The shaking stopped in minutes and I instantly felt calmer. I headed to the bathroom where I stripped. I stood naked in the mirror for a long time, analyzing my face. In my warped psyche, I thought Ron didn't want me because of my appearance. I was twenty pounds underweight and couldn't remember the last time I had eaten. The tears came as always and I walked to my bed and took something from under my pillowcase, cradling it carefully in my hands as I walked back to the bathroom.

Nestled safely in the freezing bathtub, my mind swirled around the razorblade in my hands. One, two, three times it cut me. On my stomach, my thigh, and my wrist-right underneath the bracelet Ron had bought me for our anniversary last year. The silver of the bracelet gleamed bright crimson and I smiled, releasing all the pain that had built up inside me overnight.

**- Sarah Saves the World**


End file.
